


Lengths of Depravity

by Myra_Rain



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: A+ Parenting, Angst, Batfamily Feels, Blood and Injury, Brothers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Family Drama, Family of Choice, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kidnapping, POV Alternating, Shooting, family is what you make it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:15:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myra_Rain/pseuds/Myra_Rain
Summary: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne have all been kidnapped by the same group. Bruce is left to find them. What the kidnappers don't know is that when you mess with the Wayne family, chances are you'll have one seriously angry Bat to deal with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Captivity**

His muscles were slow and stiff. He didn’t remember being drugged, but he sure as hell recognized the side effects. He tested his ligaments in a regular fashion. His hands were cuffed behind him... He screwed his eyes shut before opening them cautiously. The room was white walled and padded with no remarkable features besides the reinforced steel door and the solid twelve-by-twelve steel slot next to it. Fluorescent light streamed down from dual bulbs far above his head, though they flickered from time to time leaving the room’s shadows far longer than they should be. Jason glanced around with bleary eyes, struggling to keep his weary mind from wandering. He heard a groan to his right and turned, blinking rapidly, to see Dick Grayson slumped against the wall.

and beside him – oh _shit_ –Tim, and Damian. His ‘brothers’ for all intents and purposes.

Jason tested the strength of his restraints, noting that there was very little give in the chains as his eyes settled on each of the boys. There was dried blood caked to the side of Tim’s forehead and Jason winced at what would be a painful headache when the boy awoke. Damian sat to Jason’s immediate left, in between Jason and the wall. The youngest bat looked well enough, though his face seemed stuck in a devilish scowl that reminded Jason so much of Bruce that he had to look away – lest old memories take their place in his mind. Still, his critical eye was working.

None of them were wearing their nightly personas, which meant this was personal for whoever had taken them. It had to have something to do with Bruce – he was the only probable connection. Jason used his arms to maneuver himself closer to Dick before swinging the cuffs forward and under his legs so that he could reach out and touch the older man’s shoulder and give him a good shake.

Jason’s efforts proved fruitful when Dick let out a sputtering cough and opened his bright blue eyes. There was panic at first and Dick shot forward, almost headbutting Jason if the younger man had been a second slower in jumping back.

“glad you could join the world of the living, Dickie-bird,” Jason said.

The man’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, dumbly disoriented for a moment. Dick took a quick assessment of the situation, turning this way and that, testing his restraints much like Jason had done just moments ago. It was strange to see the Bat’s teachings manifest so similarly. It had been awhile since they had seen one another.

“How’d we get here, Little Wing?” Dick whispered, still glancing around warily.

Jason growled at the endearing term, but didn’t respond. As if on cue Tim shot upwards and took in a huge gulp of air. “We were drugged,” the boy said. He opened and closed his mouth like he was trying to dispel a load of cotton from within.

“Thanks for the astute observation, kid. I’m sure B would be proud,” Jason sneered.

Then, he winced sympathetically as the boy gingerly probed the wound on his forehead. “Ow,” Tim murmured.

Just then Damian sat up and turned sleep-filled eyes on the three of them. The youngest boy looked around Jason to see Dick and Tim, who gasped when they saw the child. “You too, Baby Bat?”

“I detest that nickname. You will cease to use it immediately,” Damian sneered.

Yep. Definitely Bruce’s son. All precociousness and petty attitude issues to go.

Jason sighed heavily. This was just not his night.

“OK. Let’s not panic here. What’s the last thing you all remember?” Dick asked.

Tim was the first to respond, “Uh… I think I was on my way to the manor. My bike was flipped and…” He shook his head and gasped at the pain the action brought. “I felt this pinprick. That’s all I can remember.”

Damian grumbled something about Tim’s incompetence before Dick’s eyes slid to the youngest boy. “Father made me stay home…” They all caught the unspoken _from patrol_ , “That’s when I felt a dart hit my arm. Before I could adequately respond I was out. The sedative must have been strong.”

Dick nodded. “I’d just left the Bludhaven Police Department when they hit me. Did any of you actually see our attacker?”

“ _Attackers_ , plural. I caught a glimpse. I’d just gotten home, they missed the first dart, but caught me in the neck afterwards. The shadows hid their features, but I know there was more than one.” Jason said evenly. His hands rubbed at his neck absently where he’d felt the pinprick.

“And how do we know you aren’t behind this, Todd?” Damian spat.

Jason merely shifted the chains around his wrists to make an audible sound with them, pointing out that he too was trapped. He made a face at the youngest boy, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out. If only just.

“ _Relax boys, I’m the one that brought you here.”_ It was a voice coming in over a speaker hidden just from view above the hanging fluorescent lights. The sound resonated through the room, though the voice itself was full of static. “ _don’t worry, you’ll soon be released. Just as soon as your father antes up.”_

So, this was about money. Jason threw his head back and let out a dark chuckle. “You do realize that Bruce doesn’t give a rat’s _ass_ about me, right? Right. You can just let me go and we’ll just pretend this never happened.”

The voice returned the laughter in kind, reminding Jason too much of another maniacal laugh. “ _Well, we will just see about that, won’t we. Let’s get Daddy on the phone, shall we? I’m sure that by now he’s realized that his sons have all gone missing.”_ Jason could practically hear the grin in the disjointed voice.

“What do you mean ‘by now’?” Dick asked uncertainly, turning inquisitive eyes to Jason and then Tim.  

“ _it’s been a few days now, Dick Grayson_.” It paused, “ _Don’t worry. I’ll allow you all to hear our conversation.”_

A click sounded through the room. Suddenly a dial tone. Then a gruff, familiar voice answered on the second ring. “Who are you?” Bruce snapped clearly over the speaker.

“ _Now, now, Mr. Wayne, no need to get snippy. Your children are safe. All four of them.”_

_“If you touch even a single hair-”_

“ _Your empty threats will get you nowhere, Mr. Wayne, I assure you. Now if you don’t mind, we should argue the terms of our –”_

 _“how do I know they’re even still alive.”_ It was a statement. Jason caught the slight tremor to the tone, something like fear, only this was Bruce – and Bruce was never afraid of anything.

“ _Now you see Bruce – do you mind if I call you Bruce? – your interruptions are starting to get on my nerves.”_ There was a pause, “ _Maybe I’ll just shoot the little one to show you I’m serious_.”

The metal slot on the wall next to the door opened and a gun was brought through, aimed at Damian. Dick was the first to speak up; he roared in rage and pulled at his restraints. Tim, ever the analyst, remained silent but began to pick at his chains furiously in an attempt at escape, while Damian loosed a string of curses in both Arabic and English. Jason was quiet. He was the marksman of the family, had made a living as a sniper and gun-toting vigilante. He knew all about trajectory and what type of gun was pointed toward the boy – a pistol, approximately six rounds. He watched the gun set its sights on the boy, four inches from the boy’s heart, half an inch from the diaphragm. It would be a kill shot at this range with how small the boy was, without the protection of his armor.

The kid, for all his frustratingly arrogant remarks, was still a child. Innocent. Jason looked at Dick and Tim in turn. They were too far away to be of any use. It had to be him.

That was why when the trigger was pulled, when Bruce could be heard screaming “NO!”, and when Damian found himself unable to move, Jason twisted to the side and took the bullet in the chest.

In all honesty, he’d expected it to be painful – especially without Kevlar – but what he hadn’t exactly planned for was the blood that filled his mouth. It was agony, choking on gelatinous fluid. He coughed, trying to clear the air way, to little avail, more blood just pumped upward to take its place. The breathless nature of the event reminded him of being in his grave. Of knowing the air was there, just out of reach, just past six feet of dirt and bugs and... He let out a strangled cry that did _not_ sound like his voice. His ‘brothers’ were shell-shocked. Bruce was silent. The voice wasn’t.

“ _Oops, looks like little ‘Jaybird’ took the bullet instead. Maybe that’s why you’re so quiet.”_ The voice laughed, but Jason was already starting to lose consciousness. Everything was growing fuzzy, and the taste of blood made him nauseated. His body betrayed him, going into painful spasms. Strong arms pulled him up, holding him tightly, and Jason barely registered that Dick’s royal blue eyes were staring helplessly into his own turquoise ones. Dick was saying something, barking orders, and Jason felt pressure being applied to the wound.

 _“JASON! I swear to God, if he dies there will be nothing on Heaven or Earth to save your worthless-”_ The voice was full of inhuman rage and contempt. Jason shivered, coughing up the substance he couldn’t seem to breathe around.

 _“Looks like I nicked his lung. Hear that, Bruce? That’s the sound of your son choking on his own blood. You’ve got maybe a few hours before he bleeds out. I had better receive eighty million before that happens, or I’ll shoot another one. Don’t worry, I’ll transmit the location to you.”_ The noise abruptly cut off and the room was plunged into silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Lost and Found**

Bruce listened to the dial tone for a few moments after the man hung up; the sound of Jason sputtering in pain still fresh in his ears. He would have sworn that Jason meant nothing to him anymore just a few days ago, but… well, it just wasn’t true. His heartbeat sped up at the very mention of the boy’s name. Visions of an exploding warehouse, of a bloodied and broken son, of agony and fury, danced before his eyes. The suffering that was losing a child always stood within him, even after Jason’s ungodly return.

His son… how long since he had called him that? Too long, probably. That did not mean that the connection was severed, however. It would never mean that.

His mind refused to fathom the loss that would be inflicted if, for the second time, Jason was taken from him.

He tried to refocus his over-tired eyes on the information in front of him. It was a chemical analysis on the only dart to be found at any of the scenes. And it had been found at Jason Todd’s apartment. It had been strange, entering the safe house. Of course, as Batman, he’d been aware of the general location of Jason’s haven in Gotham City, but he’d never actually ventured there.

The room had been a mess – a shattered glass table in the center, a broken lamp on the side table next to the black leather couch. Obvious signs of a struggle. But, upon closer inspection, Buce had noted just how _clean_ the apartment was. There was the occasional dust bunny, but otherwise it was pristine. It reminded Bruce of the soldiers that return home after seeing the horrors of war – the ones that are damaged and broken by visions of the past – who throw themselves into preserving some semblance of order by the home they keep around them. Everything had its place, nothing crooked or broken down like he’d expected. In the fridge, there had been food, properly labeled and dated, both cooked and raw alike. He remembered vaguely that Alfred had taught the boy to cook, that Jason had soaked up that knowledge much like he did every other form of knowledge – like a sponge. And it looked good too. There was a mix of Mediterranean food inside, some Persian cuisine, some German soups and Italian pesto. All smelled delicious, like something Alfred would have made, or perhaps even better.

Bruce couldn’t help the smile that came to his features. Though he’d never admit it, he was glad to see that the boy he had raised was taking care of himself better in this life than the last.

Jason had never kept a tidy room when he’d been alive under the manor’s roof. Immediately following Jason’s funeral, Bruce had ventured to the room and sat in the desk chair to stare at the boy’s things. Even today, the room remained unchanged, like a shrine to the dead – or a tomb. Recently, having wandered into the room after seeing Jason on the news, Bruce had noted that several things had gone missing. Like the picture that they had taken together – the one of Batman and the newly inaugurated Robin – leaving only a serene absence of dust where the frame had been. Looking around in the young man’s apartment now, he spotted the frame – resting next to a tire iron and a stolen tire from the Batmobile. Bruce had laughed aloud at the scene, noting that this was the tire that had gone mysteriously missing four and a half months ago, without explanation. Around the same time that Jason had moved in to this safe house. He shook his head. Bruce had always expected that the boy would return to old habits after his return.

But Jason had come back changed.

While he still had the abrasive attitude of the teenager Bruce had known and loved, every emotion had been heightened. Like Jason was merely a magnifying glass through which his emotions and attitude had shone through. And that had made him dangerous to be around.

Since the boy’s ungodly return from the grave, Bruce had been apprehensive around his second son at best. Alfred had said on more than one occasion that they were both just too similar. Bruce had scoffed at the time, turning away from his oldest friend and father-figure to track down the wayward bird.

But Alfred had been right on the money.

They _were_ similar. Both stubborn as hell, with the tunnel vision to match it. Emotions were difficult to translate without the violence of action.  Volatile, angry, vengeful Jason, who was in more ways than one, just like his father. Not Willis Todd, but Bruce Wayne. Jason was what Bruce _could_ have been, and that fact alone scared him more than words could describe. It was why he had made the initial decision to take Jason to Arkham. It had been a mistake. It had alienated his son even more – but, then, there had also been a change in the boy. Jason had left Gotham. He’d created a team and made a family out of The Outlaws he surrounded himself with. Now though, that team had moved on, leaving Jason alone to his thoughts. The boy had returned to Gotham. But they hadn’t spoken in months, as much due to Bruce avoiding his son as to Jason avoiding him.

The beeping of the Batcomputer startled him from his thoughts. Analysis complete. The screen blared back at him with the toxicology report. The drug that had been used was rare, and only a handful of places in Gotham had the capability to produce it. He quickly narrowed it down, hacking into mainframes and pulling up merchandise catalogues, noting the buyers. One stood out, and it had an address to a warehouse on Thirtieth Street. Bruce grimaced.   

Jason had taken a bullet for Damian, reminding Bruce of what Jason always had been first and foremost: a protector, a soldier. His mind, the part that was Bruce Wayne, rebelled against the thought, at the lesser terminology for Jason. _That_ voice screamed “ _my son_!” and wouldn’t let go of the past; it whispered of all the times the boy had brought a smile to Bruce’s usually sullen features. But he couldn’t afford to be a father right now. Bruce Wayne needed to be the Dark Knight if he was going to have any chance at saving all four of his boys.

That’s why, when the cape and cowl were donned, Bruce Wayne was absolutely silent and the Bat was cool and calculated.

******

“Don’t worry Jaybird. You’ll be all right. Bruce will come through for us.” Dick whispered soothingly, running a hand through his brother’s sweat-streaked hair. The boys had maneuvered themselves closer to Jason like a flock gathering protectively around an injured member, though Dick and Damian were the only ones that could actually touch the young man.

Jason lay limply on the floor, sputtering and coughing up blood from time to time. He was in bad shape. He knew it with the way he wheezed painfully, struggling in an uphill battle just to take a single breath. His time with the All Caste had given him a new sense of bodily awareness, allowing him to gain a limited ability to manipulate bodily functions. He’d forced himself to let go, consciousness came and went like waves crashing to shore and then receding just as quickly. Unconsciousness would slow down the blood loss, as well as reducing the pressure on the heart from the sucking chest wound. Upon his third return to consciousness, amid the poking and prodding of Dick and Tim, Jason had found that Dick had managed to make a semi-medical seal over the hole to help equalize the pressure in Jason’s left lung. He felt for the wound, feeling something rectangular and strange over the wound, under ripped cloth from Tim’s shirt. Dick had kissed his brow upon realizing that he was awake.

“Wha’?” Jason said, or thought he said. The words were slurred and quiet at best.

Dick smiled at him, though there were tears in his eyes, glossing over the fear that was so apparent in his brother’s trembling. “Took a class on being a field medic.” He smiled, but it was broken in a way that Dick’s smiles should never be. “Used my driver’s license to make a medical seal. It’s not exactly _sanitary_ , but it should give us more time.”

Jason, for his part, was as white as a sheet. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and goosebumps rose their ugly heads across his body as he switched between being unbearably hot and being overwhelmingly cold. Yet, even with the pain, he looked every bit the young, vulnerable nineteen-year-old he was. Not at all the angry, vengeful spirit they had come to know.

Tim was pacing dispassionately, but the worry lines were evident. Tim had woken to a headache, but it had only worsened as time went on. Dick had wrapped the wound on his forehead, but the cut still pulsed dully in time with his heartbeat. Neither of them knew exactly how to deal with this. Jason had just taken a _bullet_ for Damian, despite his near-constant denial of familial ties. Jason, who had always been a step away from becoming the most cunning and resourceful villain the boys would ever face, yet here they were being rescued by him… it just didn’t add up in their minds.

Suddenly, Damian was on his feet, breaking into Tim’s thoughts. His face was puffy and red, eyes glistening madly in the fluorescent rays.  “This is all _your_ fault, Drake.”

Tim stared at the boy incredulously, “What the hell? What did I do?!”

“Your complete lack of purpose has led us to this situation. I hope Father leaves you chained to the wall.”

Red Robin glared at the boy momentarily before abruptly dropping to the floor in a heap. All the fight drained out of the teenager and he closed his eyes, putting a hand to his forehead. “I’m not putting up with you today, Demon.”

“-Tt- Pathetic,” Damian spat.

“The hell are you two talkin’ ‘bout?” all three boys started at the sound of the voice – it was Jason. His head lolled from side to side and Dick helped him turn to the side slightly. The vigilante let out a wet cough before closing his eyes tightly against the offensive light of the room.

Dick jumped on the opportunity immediately. “Don’t try to talk, Little Wing. Save your strength. B is coming for us,” he whispered, touching his chin to Jason’s forehead tenderly.

Jason laughed harshly, but it swiftly turned into a series of fitful coughs. “not like I was worth the cash, anyways,” He offered a bloody smile that only made Dick’s arms tighten around the younger man.

It surprised both of them when Dick wasn’t the next one to speak. “Shut up, Todd.” It was Damian and Tim speaking in tandem.

The room fell silent but for Jason’s labored breathing.

“ _How cute. The family’s working through their laundry list of problems.”_ The voice rasped harshly. And Jason groaned at the interruption. “ _I do love these Hallmark moments…”_

_“Then you’ll_ love _me.”_ It was Bruce’s voice, over the intercom.

Jason’s heart jumped into his throat and threated to choke him. Fear lit his eyes and he struggled against his brother’s iron grip. His blood pooled around him as it spewed from the wound in his chest, it was painful as hell, but he just kept on charging.

“ _Jason, sit still._ ” The voice came again, it held no emotion and only served to infuriate Jason further.

Blood soaked Jason’s shirt as he fought Dick and the sudden addition of Damian on his other side. “ _fuck you_ , Bruce. I’m NOT going back to prison.” His eyes were hazy and unfocused, lending a note of insanity to the words.

“ _what?- NO. Jason…”_ Jason let out a strangled cry and blood frothed from his lips. “ _Please, son…”_

That caught all of their attention. Jason stared at the speakers in disbelief, but when he spoke his voice held a note of pleading, of desperation, though both were buried under so much pain and anger… “Swear to me, Bruce.”

“ _I swear, Jason.”_ With that the young man collapsed against Dick’s shoulder, like all the fight had drained away. His head lolled to the side and dick shifted so that the younger man’s nose pressed against Dick’s neck. In his state of delirium, he wasn’t even sure if Jason was aware of it.

“ _Dick, listen to me closely. I found where he was transmitting from. There are screens here. I can see you, but I don’t know where you are. The kidnapper was not here. I need to find him. Will… will you all be safe until then?”_ Dick recognized the necessity of finding the man to learn their location, but… for some reason it felt like the man was putting the mission first – _again_. Dick sighed, considering his answer carefully, leaning against the sweat-streaked hair of his younger brother as the boy murmured incoherently.

“I don’t know if Jason will last that long… Hurry up, Bruce. Don’t screw this up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, here's ch. 2. working on my other work and that should be posted soon as well. A few updates on this, hope y'all enjoy. Reviews welcome ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review! may add more chapters depending on review turnout.


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